


friendship is busy smooching death.

by Stabbsworth



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Gen, triumphant!wilson, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stabbsworth/pseuds/Stabbsworth
Summary: In which a specific version of Wilson is drunk and overly emotional and has no idea if his friends are actually friends or want him around or not.aka: high-key a vent fic.
Kudos: 6





	friendship is busy smooching death.

He's not sure how he feels about the latest rejection, but whatever it is, it's not good.

Instead of doing anything productive, he turns to drinking and ranting to himself while drunk off his ass.

He's also come to the conclusion that everyone only keeps him around because he's useful in some manner to them. Why else would they tolerate the constant annoyances and inconveniences that he caused?

Quite frankly, this is stupid. So is the entire Constant, and so is this shitty friendship thing. He can easily survive alone, hell, he's done it for thousands of days and season cycles. He can do it again.

Instead of actually buggering about to get a base or something set up, he just sits there with a mug of mead and sips at it.

Maybe nobody's noticed that he's gone. Good.

About five minutes later, he's fucked off into the office area, tripped over his own two feet, and just proceeded to lay there.

"Am gonna fuckin smooch Death right on th' teeth one'a these days I swear to god."

A shadow looks at him.

"Yeah, no, not you, Mark. Fuck off. Everyone hates me anyways so I might as well fuckin isolate myself."

It just gives him a tilted head in response.

"Fuck 'em." There's an angered huff. "'ave survived in this shithole before by myself."

It nudges him in the side.

"Am no' moving. Fuck off."

It nudges him in the side again. He just curls up and shivers.

About five minutes later, he's crying quietly to himself again, to the surprise of nobody. An utterly pathetic display of emotions.

Another five minutes pass, at which point he seems to have silenced himself. He eventually sits up, wiping at his eyes with the cuff of his dress shirt and sighs.

Then he gets himself up properly, standing to his full height of about… five feet, then staggers off, presumably to go back to his tent and sulk.

Ironically enough, said tent is in the main base where most, if not all, of the other survivors are.

**Author's Note:**

> gestures vaguely. a lot of this is from my own experience, minus the getting drunk off your arse part.
> 
> i'm very tired.


End file.
